


Worthiness

by Cloudnine101



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Insecurity, M/M, Pining, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4977823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Castiel snorts. "Gabriel, the day Dean Winchester propositions me is the day nightingales fly from your backside. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to retire for the evening." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Gabriel's eyes widen considerably. "Mr Winchester," he says, voice strangled. "How pleasant it is to see you. Strange - that you should be downstairs so late."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worthiness

"I see that Dean Winchester has returned from his travels," is Gabriel's first remark, made as soon as they cross the drawing room's threshold. It's dark; Castiel fiddles with the light, trying to ensure its glow.

"Living abroad has certainly changed him." Castiel moves to fill Gabriel's glass, and discovers it already occupied. "I must confess, I was not expecting his arrival. And I don't find it unpleasant, before you say anything."

"I see," Gabriel says, and they lapse into silence. "How _did_ you find Mr Winchester?"

"He was the best looking man in the room, conversed easily, and sang like a lark." Castiel shakes his head. "I can never hope to have him, can I? Not now. Now that he's - "

"Well, seeing as you rated your chances together _before_ he became a society belle as nothing, I don't fancy you'll be the one declaring your intent." Gabriel leans back in his seat, and takes a sip of his wine. "Quite frankly, I despair of the pair of you. Everybody knows he's looking for a husband."

"Yes," Castiel snaps, "a worthy husband. One who can interest him. I can't do that."

Gabriel takes another gulp. "I won't try to argue. I simply know you'll crush me. But I'm telling you, brother, you're taking the wrong cue from this. Who are you to say he isn't looking for _you_?"

Castiel snorts. "Gabriel, the day Dean Winchester propositions me is the day nightingales fly from your backside. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to retire for the evening."

Gabriel's eyes widen considerably. "Mr Winchester," he says, voice strangled. "How pleasant it is to see you. Strange - that you should be downstairs so late."

Castiel spins around. There, in the doorway, is Dean; he's wearing nought more than a night-shirt and trousers, feet bare, hair mussed. His top button is open.

"Sorry to inconvenience you," Dean says, "but I heard your conversation, and I thought I'd join you."

Castiel cringes. His heart feels as though it is about to beat out of his chest. Presently, though, he returns to himself, to find Dean looking directly at him. Castiel glances downwards.

"I didn't know we'd reached such a volume," Gabriel comments; he speaks amiably enough, but Dean blushes.

"Mr Winchester," Castiel finds himself saying, "please feel free to retire when you wish. If you should have need of me, I will be in my room. Goodnight." And with that, Castiel makes a desperate dash for the door.

"Cas," Dean calls after him, but Castiel keeps walking. The house is quiet, now. His footsteps echo in the stairwell. They are swiftly followed by a second pair - presumably Gabriel, come to ensure his continued wellbeing - as if happiness was possible, at this moment in time. Castiel does not think it likely.

Drawing the bolt across his door, Castiel sags against the wood. He closes his eyes. "I am fine, Gabriel," he says, just loudly enough to be heard. "I do not require your pity."

"I'm not pitying you," Dean replies.

Castiel sits bolt upright. "Dean - I mean, Mr Winchester. I thought you would remain below." As soon as he says the words, he winces. "That was stilted."

Dean's chuckles are deep. "As much as I love your brother, I didn't come down to see him. In truth, I - I was having trouble sleeping, and thought to seek you out. We used to be friends, you know."

"Yes," Castiel croaks. "We did."

After that, there is a hush; for a while, Castiel believes Dean to be gone. Just when he is about to stir himself, he hears, "I didn't know you'd think I was any different. I mean, I've changed, sure, but it's a good thing. Ain't it?"

"I don't know," Castiel confesses. "You do seem - happy, Dean. I want you to be happy."

"Happy," Dean echoes, and then abruptly stops. "You - you think - God, Cas, what do you think I've been trying to _do_?"

"I can't presume to wonder." Castiel steels himself, gripping at his own palms. "It has been rumoured that - that your return signals marital intentions."

"I'm not looking for a husband, if that's what you mean."

Castiel stops. "What?"

"I'm not looking for a husband," Dean repeats, voice level. "I just wanted to see you again. Let you know I was - better." Dean stumbles over the last word.

"You didn't have to improve. You were already - " _Perfect_ , Castiel thinks, and bites the word from his own tongue. "A gentleman."

"A gentleman, huh?" There's a scraping sound; Castiel fancies he can hear Dean shifting. "You could've called it that, I guess. Or you could've said I was looking to impress someone."

"Ah," Castiel says, as his stomach drops through his shoes. "I'm very happy for you. Congratulations."

"I haven't got him yet," Dean says, and Castiel is ashamed to find himself relaxing.

"I thought you were already engaged. My apologies."

"For the last time, Cas, I don't want to get married! Alright? I just - I just want to be with somebody, and not be their husband. I can do that, can't I?"

"It would be considered improper, but..." Castiel hesitates. "I don't see why not. It's never stopped either of us before." And that implies something Castiel is unwilling to acknowledge. 

"There we go, then." This time, Dean is definitely altering his position. Castiel's sure of it. "I heard what you said, before - how you felt for me."

Castiel's skin turns cold. Ice creeps across his chest, and burns down deep. "Oh," he says.

"Voice like a lark, huh? Easy talker? Best looking man in the - "

"You've made your point," Castiel bites out. "If you came here to mock me, then I have obviously misread your character."

"I'm not trying to mock you, I'm trying to - " Here, Dean breaks off. "Talk to you. We can do that. You want that."

"You did not show any intention of talking earlier this evening. If I had not excused myself, we would have ended up discussing the weather!" Castiel nurses his injured palms. There are red welts in them. "I thought - perhaps - you would be lenient. You would be kind. You would not make a jest of my emotions."

"Cas," Dean says, but Castiel cuts him off.

"I simply wanted to take care of you, Dean. That is all I asked. You were so troubled, so shy, and yet I - I needed you. And then you went travelling - and for six months, I waited for you to write me a letter. After seven, when nothing came, I grew doubtful. At eight, I became suspicious. Once a year had been and gone, I lost all hope of hearing your voice - reading your words - again."

"I didn't know," Dean says, "I was - I didn't think - "

"No. You didn't think. You were busy, and I was ridiculous, and the result was nothing but heartache." Castiel bites his lip, trying to stem, if not stop, the spew of words. "I wanted to make you happy. That was all I ever wanted. To hold you close, and to end your pain."

"Cas," Dean says again, hoarsely. "I - you - "

"To be the one to make you laugh. To give you all the affection you had never received. To show you that you were noble, and good, and worthy of love - that you did not need to - to _conform_." Castiel spits out the final word. He scrubs a tear from his eye, and continues, "You were the best man - the best friend - I could have desired. And I - you must understand, I tried to end my wishes, but I - I could not."

"You don't have to try," Dean murmurs, "you can - we'll - "

"No - you and I, we are too far apart, now. There was a time when I thought - when I believed - and then you left, and I was forced to lead my own life." Castiel opens his eyes. "I hope you find someone you love. Someone you will not force you down. Someone who will soothe away your sorrows. But that man cannot be me."

"Why? Why can't it, Cas?"

"Because you don't love me. At least, not anymore." Castiel licks his lips, once, but words will not come to him, until - "I spent so much time thinking of our last night together - of what I could have done differently. How I would have told you, if I received the opportunity. How I promise I would tell you, if we ever met again. Needless to say, this - is not what I imagined."

"Me neither," Dean says. "Cas, I - I need - you can be with me, Cas. We can still have that."

"But not as we were."

"I'm different - I swear it. Give me a chance, and I'll prove it to you. I can - I can charm you. I want to." Dean says it with such conviction that Castiel is almost tempted to believe him. "One shot, that's all I need. I won't mess up this time. I won't be your father's ward. I'll be yours."

Castiel starts, and says, "You didn't 'mess up' before."

"But I did, I - I stood there for hours, outside your door, on that last night, trying to tell you that I - that you - that you should come with me. But I didn't. And I couldn't bring myself to face you, and I'll always regret it. I spent a year regretting it."

"What are you talking about?"

Dean exhales sharply. "You, Cas," he says. "I'm talking about you, and me, and us. Being together. Romantically."

Castiel sighs, "You make fun of me."

"I'd never! I'd never do that! Why would - look, just come out here, and I'll show - "

"You make of _fun_ of me."

"You come out here, or I swear to God, I'll drag you out myself!"

There is more movement, and then Gabriel's voice; he's saying, "Dean Winchester, you lay one finger on my brother, and I'll - "

"What'll you do? Wake Castiel's other guests up? Since when did you two host parties?"

"Since I've been trying to find him a husband, you ignorant _fool_ \- "

Castiel tears the door open. "Stop it, both of you, and keep your voices _down_!" Dean and Gabriel both turn to gape. Castiel glares. "Your opportunity is now, Dean. If you wish to show me of your supposed affection, then be my guest."

Dean nods. He steps closer. For a second, Castiel thinks he's going to be struck; but instead, Dean simply loosens. The tension drains out of his body. He sags downwards, Dean resting against Castiel's shoulder, breathing in. Castiel can smell his faint, musky scent.

"Dear God," Gabriel mutters. "I'm done. This is my involvement over. Just - just - I don't care. Do whatever you want to do. One day, Winchester, I will kill you. Gradually and painfully. By degrees." 

Slowly, Castiel reaches up, and wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders. "I'll see you in the morning," he tells Gabriel, as Dean's lips press into the hollow of his clavicle.

"I missed you," Dean says. "So much. Everywhere I went, I thought you'd - you'd like it, and I - I wanted to tell you everything, but you - I didn't - you didn't need to talk to me. I didn't think you needed to talk to me, so, so I, I - I didn't want to embarrass you."

"Embarrass me? How could you possibly - ?"

Dean chuckles without mirth. "I didn't have money, Cas. Before I went travelling, you and I, we were seen as brothers. Without influence, how could I convince people otherwise? How could I convince you?"

"Oh, Dean," Castiel murmurs, running a hand through his hair, "you never had to show me anything. I knew."

"I didn't." Dean's voice has a raw tint to it. Taking the plunge, Castiel holds onto his chin, turning it so that their faces are almost touching. "I didn't know."

"Then let me show you," Castiel says, and brings their lips together in a gentle press. It's soft - delicate. Dean's lips are warm, and taste of nothing much in particular. They send shocks spiralling through every part of Castiel's being. "I need you."

"Cas," Dean says, when they draw apart. He's frowning. For a second, the back of Castiel's neck turns cold. "You can't - need me. You don't have to pretend. I can deal with it. Falsity is the last thing - "

"What would you be expected to _deal with_? You confuse me greatly." Castiel smiles. His fingers trace the line of Dean's jaw. Dean's eyelids flutter. "You always have been most enigmatic."

"This, Cas. The - the - " 

"Love is the word you're searching for, I do believe."

Dean's shoulders rise. He shakes his head, eyes hardening. "You're not in love with me."

"Who are you to say? Who are you to lay claim to my emotions?" Laying a palm on the flat of Dean's back, Castiel makes an attempt to tug him closer, but Dean holds firm.

"Who am I? I'm nothing. I'm nobody. I can sing, but that's nothing a bird can't do. I'm in a cage, Cas; I'm trapped. And no matter what you might think, you don't want to be in there with me."

Dean's eyes sparkle, but it isn't with laughter. This time, Castiel inches closer to him, keeping a gentle pressure on his back.

"Let's go into my room," Castiel says, and Dean's eyes light again.

"Yes," he says. "That's right. That's good."

Castiel leads the way inside. As soon as they're sequestered, Dean slams the door shut, and proceeds to grin at Castiel. His eyes are bright and brilliant. It's enough to make Castiel's stomach churn.

"I'm not going to use you for your looks, if that's what you think this is." As expected, Dean's expression crumbles away, solidifying into blankness. Castiel grips the side of the bed, keeping himself upright. "I was desirous of us having privacy."

"To do what?" Dean asks.

Castiel stands. "You are beautiful, Dean. It is true. But you're more than your appearance."

Dean turns his head away. The moonlight highlights his profile, cutting his jaw and cheek in stark black. "You can't know that."

"But I do. I lived with you for ten years, since we were nothing more than boys. I've watched you grow."

"I've changed. You said so yourself." Dean looks at him, as flat and cold as still water. "I'm not the man I was."

"No - and that is also true. But I don't believe you've changed for the worse. You're still you, Dean. If someone was to strip away the polish, they'd find your heart underneath, beating as brightly as it ever was."

Dean's swallowing, throat bobbing. "Maybe there wasn't a heart there to begin with. Maybe it was stolen."

Castiel's breath hitches in his throat. "You cannot be without a heart," he says at length, "for you have taken mine."

Dean kisses him. Their lips mangle, and Castiel hooks him close. Their arms tangle together. Dean tilts his face to one side, and brushes his mouth against Castiel's cheek.

"I love you," Dean says, "I've loved you for so long, I can't - you don't - "

"Because I love you, Dean," Castiel gets out. "I love you, and I loved you when we were boys, and I will love you as we live out our days together. And no one can convince me otherwise."

"You can't," Dean says, "please, Cas, Castiel, you can't. I don't deserve it. Don't you see?"

At the base of Castiel's throat, a lump forms. "You're right," he says. "If you can't see how important you are to me, then you don't truly desire my affection."

Dean's legs buckle. He sags to the carpet, his head in his hands. "Cas," he says, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have - I forced myself onto you, didn't I? You've got to forgive me. Please. I'll do anything. I just need you to forgive me. I'm so sorry."

"You're not listening to me. Listen." Castiel squats down on the carpet beside him, and places his palm on the side of Dean's face. Dean shies away from his touch. "You are everything I need. Listen. Are you listening?"

Dean shakes his head, frantic and desperate. "I'm not. I'm not. I can't be. You've got all these people, and I'm not one of them. Couldn't you see how they were looking at you? At the party? I couldn't get between you and them. I couldn't _breathe_. And you didn't see me. Not _once_."

"I always saw you. I was constantly searching for you. If you slipped out of my sight for a moment, I could feel my heartbeat quickening." Castiel looks down. Dean's hands have curled around his wrists. "It is the truth. I'm not going to run."

"Your pulse is fast," Dean says, in a tone of wonder.

"Yes. It is. And that is your influence. The way you make me feel. Is physical attraction enough to merit it?"

Dean's teeth are gritted. "People are always watching you," he says, slowly. "They've been doing it since we were children. Sizing you up. Seeing what you'd turn out to be."

"I hope I disappointed them."

Dean laughs. It is music to Castiel's ears. "They want you, though. Now. They want you to - to marry them."

"For my money, Dean. Nothing more."

"That man - Balthazar. He sat beside you at dinner."

"What of it? We went to university together. He is a good friend." Castiel slips his hands out of Dean's grip, and locks their fingers together instead. "I bear no inclination of that sort towards him."

Dean looks lost. His mouth keeps shaping words, but no sound emerges. "He's got money," he settles on. "Style. Class. _He_ made you laugh."

"Only the last point is important. Although Lord knows, my father thinks otherwise." Castiel lightly touches Dean's temple, their hands still locked. "You look rather the ruffian today. I'm sure you should be put in the stocks."

"Your father would gladly do it to me, ward or no."

Chuckling, Castiel says, "I hate to admit it, but it's probably true. He's an exceedingly sour-tempered old miser."

"Language," Dean mockingly chides. His words no longer shake. 

Castiel shoves him. "It's true," he declares. "I've been desperately avoiding him all season. Gabriel has been my saviour, despite the fact that I have to attend his - little gatherings. But our starting place is behind us."

"And what do you think of your brother's parties, university boy?"

Castiel shrugs, ignoring the jab. "Aside from Gabriel and Balthazar, the company - leaves something to be desired."

"What? A sense of humour?"

"Kindness," Castiel admits. "Common decency. Sense, most of all."

"At least I've got that," Dean says, smiling. "Must've picked it up somewhere. It certainly didn't come from your father." 

"Give me back your hands," Castiel says, and Dean does. Running his fingers along the knuckles, Castiel smiles himself. "These haven't changed a bit. Do you see?" Leaning forward, Castiel kisses Dean again.

Dean's head tilts. "Glad to see my lips are in working order." 

Castiel laughs, and is surprised to find his whole body shaking. "Truly, you undo me," he says. Dean nuzzles into his neck, mumbling something unintelligible. "You are no one's property, Dean; you are no one's man but your own. Don't forget that."

Dean doesn't reply. Castiel holds him closer, waiting for movement, or a reply - but Dean does not shift until he sleeps, head flopping backwards. Castiel remains there until he closes his eyes, too. Dean's rattling breaths stir his thoughts. 

That night, he dreams of soft hands and walls of ivy. And in the morning, he wakes warm.


End file.
